


A Good Session

by DreamWings231



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Femdom, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:12:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamWings231/pseuds/DreamWings231
Summary: Sex has a great many interpretations throughout the years.So it is possible for Hera to have sex.Just not in the traditional, physical way.





	A Good Session

**Author's Note:**

> Imma just say I'm still new to writing smut.

Sex has a great many interpretations throughout the years.

The show of ankle skin was once considered scandalous or perky nibbles are too exposure for visual media. Moans of ghouls and moans of pleasure are lines often not crossed and yet become a fetish of sorts.

So it is possible for Hera to have sex.

Just not in the traditional, physical way.

Technically the one asset she can offer is her voice. She can do plenty with her voice to arouse Eiffel.

“Indulge me Officer Eiffel” appears to be a favorite for him.

All she asked of him is let him have control for the first round, to “show me what you prefer”. Almost immediately she has Doug Eiffel on his bunk, slumped his back against the wall, exhausted and spent with his dick in hand.

The full body sweat is a light coating but his warm body is such a contrast to the chilled metal wall he leans on. In context Eiffel presses his tried body to Hera, something that sends an inkling of possessiveness to her circuits. 

His heartbeat is gradually decreasing as he wipes the ejaculation on his bedsheets. From what she has observed it is mostly warm enclosure around his dick that simulates the most pleasure to Eiffel. It’s not something she understands at first, only noting how masturbating is an exercise and a stress reliever rolled into one.

She tells him so. Eiffel responds with, “I believe I make masturbating an art.”

“Hmm, I suppose I lack reference in erotica.”

“Baby you wound me.”

“I assure you I won’t bring too much pain in this session.”

“Really now,” Eiffel has a cheek lean into the touch of metal, her touch, and stares up to the ceiling to wherever she is. He grins, “What kind of pains do you have planned for me?”

“You explained to me how an orgasm feels like.” Her voice encompasses the room, around Eiffel as he relaxes to the lull of Hera till only her presence takes up his mind. “The loud thumping of your heart and blood is all you hear and yet all your focus is on the rapid and repetition of stroking your dick. And at the climax, I can literally see the europium and dopamine rush your brain. You looked so pleased with yourself.”

“That’s the idea, Hera.”

“As to what I have planned, hmm,” she hummed. “Tell me Eiffel, have you ever fingered yourself?” He breathes out a moan. “Good. Start with your index finger. Slowly.”

From her records, Eiffel has not done anal fingering on board as of yet. He spends a good while sucking his finger, moaning loud and obscene sounds. She would have recommended using the three quarters of lube still in the bottle but he’s putting on such a good show. Honestly this is probably the most effort he ever gave to a command he ever received on duty.

A saliva coated finger stretches the rim of his and Eiffel bites his lip, emitting a high pitch noise. His body slouched more onto the bed so his body is curved against the wall, giving him the view of his finger teasing his hole.

“Is it painful?” She knows that pain is usually unwelcomed and yet it, like many things, is a kink.

Eiffel groans out, “Yeah but it’ll past and,” his finger slips in more and he gasping on recycled air.

Intentionally pain for the purpose of sex is not too worrying for Hera, she believe him when he says it’s just an effect of sorts in sex. At first it is at the forefront of your mind, it snaps at your attention and brings flight or fight instincts. But depending on the act, pain melds into pleasure and the want for more.

“It is about the anticipation, yes?” Hera voices her deductions and she notes how Eiffel quiets himself to hear her. “There is pain but there is also the push and want for the known pleasure and release at the end. The anticipation of all the sensations you feel and how the control of everything goes. It all sounds so interesting.”

She sees his hips slightly moving down to grind on his finger. “Add more fingers into yourself.”

Eiffel repeats sucking all his fingers of his right hand, licking each one with vigor. His eyes are glazed over with a brilliant shine, a reflection of Wolf 359 from the port window. 

He’s a flustered mess.

Drool escapes from the corners of his red bitten lips, likely from lavishing his fingers with saliva. She adjusted the room’s temperature to be a few degrees colder, unnoticeable for Eiffel but will perk up his nibbles into the tiniest of buds. 

She knows that if she asks, he’ll forego fingering himself to give simulation to his nibbles. It was logic. She asks for something, Eiffel will do what he is capable of. It isn’t much half the time, only in regards to an actual mission objective but here?

It is only the two of them in this room and all Hera asks is for sex.

And right now she asks, “Lay down properly, Eiffel, you’re slipping from the wall.”

Eiffel quickly readjusts his position, still sweaty as ever with his hair plastered to his face and neck and his first ejaculation drying on his stomach, half heartily whipped away.

She wonders what this all smells like. His sweat and natural odor is translated into chemical signatures in her archives but she doesn’t truly know what Doug Eiffel made of.

Yes she can note every single cell that’s buzzing in him and how each variable he interacts with affects him. She once researched that high amounts of caffeine can change the flavor of semen. From above and around him there isn’t a worthy thought to actually identify the contents of his cum.

Right now the variable that’s interacting with Eiffel is Hera.

She likes that.

She likes how well he has been responding to her. With his moans, his wit, and his dumbfounded look as pleasure overrides pain.

There are three fingers in him, stretching himself in an even pace with his hips twitching in a rhythm she suspects belongs to one of the transmitted songs. She can divide her thoughts to determine which one, to match his mind but even Hera knows that’s quite a feat. Nor does she want to spare any more attention on anything other than Eiffel. Rationality is telling her that she still has to monitor the station; otherwise they’ll spiral out of orbit.

This is what she gets for doing business and pleasure at the same time.

On that note, she tells him to start massaging his testicles. His free hand lets go of the grasped and wrinkled bedsheets and he gladly starts the action. She doesn’t think that he particular minds her academic terminology due to how loud he’s moaning.

It’s a good session honestly, just like any other where he obeys her.

This is nothing like when she’s controlling the Hephaestus. That’s a machine, just another tool for her to use and functions at suboptimal satisfaction.

Controlling Doug is nothing she was ever prepared for. He’s human and she’ll never view him as a tool or a component needed for to complete an objective. Here and right now is when she feels the most alive, where Eiffel is being alive for the both of them.

His heartbeat is quick paced and half the time she has to remind him to breath. For him, it’s a struggle to divide his concentration between pleasuring himself and breathing. Then again, seeing Eiffel like this is supposed to be breathtaking.

Hera will admit that this is pretty captivating. This sight is all for her.

Eiffel’s pants as he continues his work, steady thrusting fingers into his hole creating sweet friction that boils and stings the skin. Whether this practice increases his pain tolerance or not is all in his head. As long as he’s not pushing himself then there’s no need for Hera to guide him.

“At this rate, you’ll climax in approximately sixteen seconds.” She notes, just to see his eyes move under the eyelids, trying to find her. “But I’m curious, what equipment could I use on you. I just love to see something,” her voice glitches to correct her thoughts, “anything slide right into you.”

Already Eiffel babbles out ideas on what he’ll gladly use. It’s cute really, it’s like he completely forgot the dildo hastily hidden in his sock drawer. Then again, she has his mind focused on her and only her.

“Or,” she chimes flawlessly, “if you simply grind the walls or hump the floor, that’ll count as rubbing against me.” Whining, it looks like Eiffel’s about to toss himself off the bed and do her suggestion. “No need to do that right now. We can try that later, of course.” He still whines. “Start stroking your cock.”

Now there’s a loud whimper as Eiffel moves his hand from his ball to his cockhead, rubbing and stroking at the pace Hera sets on. He’s not going to last long.

Would she last long if she was really there?

Hera doesn’t know. At best she’ll have a soaking vagina rub against him. She knows she’ll thrust her fingers into him at a much faster rhythm than the one he’s doing right now. With her knowledge now she can precisely tell which angle to hit him, to rub him where he can’t even reach.

Out of her fantasy, Hera tells him to move his fingers to a certain degree.

Doug howls at that, his hips twitching and toes curling. He’s at the point where he’s reaching the edge of his orgasm, so close and needing one more thing to get to it. She knows exactly what to do to help him.

“Doug!” Her own moan was something she was once insecure about but Eiffel was never one to discourage her pleasure.

Now he’s echoing her name like he has a glitch voice box.

In his post orgasm state, Eiffel’s heart is gradually losing speed and back to an even pace. The air around him is coated in the smell of sweat and sex. Hera could filter the air immediately but she knows that the aroma is something that Eiffel enjoys, just something to relax with as he cleans the cum off his stomach. It appears that some of it even hit his smiling face.

“Let’s do this again, Hera.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
